


One Moment

by tea_or_die



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blue Eyes, Destiel - Freeform, Green Eyes, M/M, Poetic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 00:00:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18712372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_or_die/pseuds/tea_or_die
Summary: Planet Earth is a cataclysm of greens and blues. So is the start of their story.





	One Moment

Green. A haze of chlorophyll. Rain-forests, grasslands, dark woods in the dead of night. Soft mosses that have known saline tears and the bloom of decay, sickly and haunting. 

These thickets and steppes are filled; Deer, rabbits, a surprised cougar run for their lives, heartbeats pounding as if each one races ahead to keep from being the last. 

Darker prey hide also in these verdant groves. Beings relegated to fables and myth by the wider world, but hunted by he who possesses these viridian galaxies. 

Each star within them holds pain, love, joy, anger. Devastating heartbreak and soaring elation. Without exception they blaze, phosphorescent and searing. Infinities of supernovae, threatening an end of all in ash and coal. 

One moment, one meeting. One unexpected deviation and the world is safe, apocalypse averted. Emerald meets sapphire and with the sensation of hot lightning on a tornado-greened sky, nothing is the same again. 

Blue is calm. This blue is oceans of trust, faith, loyalty, duty and commitment. It's a tumbling sky of indigo, the open air filled with cerulean promises of freedom. 

All life needs water, needs air. Open spaces where lapis dreams grant serenity from damp-fern nightmares. One can find respite in a field of cornflower, of larkspur, of flax. 

Deep jade waters, laden with the silt and sediment of a long, restless past collide with clear azure waves, welcoming, buoyant. They lessen the burden, dispersing the sharp fragments of a lonely history to the far corners of the world. 

The hunter is exhausted, green eyes haunted by phantoms that no salt and flame will defeat. The last thing they see before shuttering their secrets behind lashes and lids is a steady blue gaze, protective, devoted. 

Then a low voice, dark navy midnight on a rugged, stony mountain peak. “I'll watch over you.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've ever felt comfortable posting, and of course it's just something that poured out of me after one too many tokes on a dreary Saturday (don't worry, pot's legal here, kids). 
> 
> I'm still not sure if I hate it.


End file.
